


just this once

by theredhoodie



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Presenting Aziraphale, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, M/M, look i just wanted this one thing and here we go!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 01:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredhoodie/pseuds/theredhoodie
Summary: Amid the centuries, Aziraphale never expanded any physical characteristics andchanged...except that one time in 1502.





	just this once

**Author's Note:**

> this is just me wanting fem!presenting!aziraphale and i was inspired by a bunch of headcanons i've read from all around tumblr.
> 
> ps thanks to the lovely ace for looking over this for me!

_ **Italy, 1502** _

The noise of human life filled the air: the clatter of wagon wheels on stone and the screech of stray cats chasing each other down the streets. There was the suggestion of a sunny day, with the sun repeatedly hiding behind clouds, casting shade on all those walking and wandering along the streets.

Near the coast, the air was tinged with salt from the sea. Merchants cramped the area around the port, setting up their wears; selling everything from fresh bread to finely made silk, children's toys to jewelry befit for royalty.

Crowley had no need for any such things, though a broach caught his eye: silver snake design curled around an emerald. Could look nice holding his half-cloak in place. Pausing by the merchant's booth, he made a face trying to look at the broach he currently wore. It was by no means lowly, but it wasn't nearly as shiny as the silver snake.

"Do you seem something that interests you, sir?" the merchant asked after exchanging another of his pieces for the rudimentary currency of the era: coins.

Crowley squinted at the snake through darkened glasses pinched across the bridge of his nose. "What do you think?" he mused. "Is it a bit much?"

The man's eyes sparkled. He was definitely imagining the gold he could get in exchange for his workmanship. "Not at all, sir!" He plucked the broach from where it sat and held it so a momentary spark of sunlight glinted through the gem. "It would go quite handsomely with your complexion I would say."

Crowley tilted his head to the side, the quirk of a smile on his face. "Oh you do, do you?" He reached out a long fingered hand to take the broach in his own hand when he felt _it_.

_It_ was the exact opposite of the feeling of walking on consecrated ground. Which, when he thought about it too much, didn't really make much sense, but he did try not to think about it too much.

The merchant felt the sale slipping right through his fingers; Crowley could nearly taste the man's aggravation as he turned away from the lopsided table and swung his gaze across the merchant's square. It was busy; difficult to walk without brushing elbows with someone else, but ultimately, the angel should have stood out, like always.

"Sir! Sir!" the merchant's desperation turned to a little fiery pit of anger as Crowley slinked away from his table.

Crowley ignored the man, deciding he may as well chalk it up to another accomplished temptation—the man would push his products hard on the next people, charge them extra out of greed—and walked through the crowd. He was taller than most of the people currently alive on the Earth, which should have made it easy to crane his neck and find the angel, but he had no such luck.

Feeling only the mild presence of Aziraphale, Crowley abandoned his _desperate_ search and resorted to a sort of languid stalking, weaving his way past every merchant's table with feline slowness and attention.

The angel couldn't have changed that much, could he? He was practically identical every time Crowley found him: naively optimistic, stubbornly _good_, potentially a bit of a pushover when it came from his head office…not that Crowley could blame him. Aziraphale _was_ an angel; he was supposed to be good, after all.

And so it was no wonder that they kept arriving in the same place. That _was_ kind of the point.

Crowley would even go so far as to say he occasionally sought the angel out. With most of his colleagues both lacking in social skills and mostly working in the bowels of Hell, he didn't have many people to be himself around.

A familiar flit of mild tempered laughter cut across the square and Crowley stopped and twisted on his heel. He bumped and nudged his way around the corner and—

"I can say I've never tasted such scrumptiously fresh fruit before!" Aziraphale said, completely genuine, grinning at the rudy faced girl behind the table laden with newly imported fruits.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley said, voice a bit higher than usual, eyebrows making a slow journey to meet his hairline. For it was_ certainly_ Aziraphale, though the noble-styled cream colored gown and unruly curly hair reaching past the angel's shoulders was a vast change from...well every other time Crowley had seen the angel.

The angel's eyes widened. "Crowley!" She glanced at the merchant girl before stepping away from the table. "How pleasant it is to see you."

"Is it?" Crowley smiled a ghost of a little smile and eyed Aziraphale from the somehow-pristine bottom embroidered hem of dress to the belted waist and puffy sleeves. Her hair was scandalously uncovered for the humans of this era, which the demon found both amusing and befitting of the angel. "Does your head office know about this?"

Aziraphale looked down, as if realizing for the first time her outfit. She brushed a hand, golden ring circling her pinkie, across the soft fabric of the skirt. "Yes well…"

"I thought your lot was into pristine and constant physical forms."

Aziraphale clasped her hands together. "Yes, we are. But," she paused and leaned a bit closer, lowering her voice as if expecting to be overheard, "you and I both have spent enough time on earth to know that change is natural. I…I wanted to try something new."

Crowley's eyebrows settled back in place. "Indeed. It suits you."

Aziraphale's face brightened, eyes twinkling in the sudden appearance of the sun as the clouds moved out of the way. "Thank you, my dear."

The demon's expression softened into brief genuine adoration and then he paused, reconsidered, and bounced back onto his heels for a moment before speaking. "Are you miracle-ing anything in particular here? Today?"

Aziraphale tilted her head upward, frowned and then shook her head. "Not at this very moment. I was just enjoying a little slice of…well, life."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

Crowley blinked and nodded, looking everywhere but at the angel before eventually meeting her questioning eyes. "All right then. Come on."

He started walking off and moments later, Aziraphale's footsteps fell into place beside him. "Where are we going?" The angel was _excited_ and _intrigued; _it nearly bled into the words coming out of her mouth.

"I know a place or two."

"As do I. I've been on this planet as long as you have, Crowley."

"I _know_ that. But I know different places. Run with different crowds." He glanced down at Aziraphale, challenging her to protest.

She didn't. Merely sighing and saying, "Tell me this does not involve anything…criminal. I don't like the thought of being put into a small, damp cell." She shivered.

Just because they were immortal beings, did not mean they were above human laws if they broke them. The unfortunate side effect of having a corporeal body.

"No," Crowley said with a chuckle, not entirely convinced his response was true. "And you could just miracle yourself away."

Aziraphale frowned, lips pinched. "No. I don't think I could."

"You would!"

She shook her head firmly. A piece of crazy hair bounced out of the loose knot at the nape of her neck and stuck out two inches straight into the air. "I couldn't."

"If you had to choose between discorporation and escape?"

Worry lined her face and she shrugged a shoulder ever so slightly. "When you put it that way…" And then she stopped. Both speaking and walking. "No. I wouldn't."

Crowley stopped and made a dramatic turn around. He walked a couple steps back to the angel and looked down at her. "Escaping prison isn't inherently bad," he said from experience. A crease formed in the middle of his brows.

"Oh, and you would know, would you?" she said, exasperated, ignoring Crowley's hand as it lifted and moved over her shoulder. "But I suppose you're ri—what are you doing?"

Her voice pitched from morally-right-I-must-have-the-high-ground to soft and questioning.

Crowley squinted, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips as he delicately twined the flyaway curl back into place. "There," he said, dropping the former conversation and stepping back. And then moving yet another curl into place in front of Aziraphale's left ear. "Your hair was looking as untidy as your wings the last I saw them."

Azriaphale's eyes grew wide. "Crowley!" She glanced around, as if expecting Michael or Gabriel to pop up out of a puddle and exclaim that she was a traitor. When that didn't happen, she relaxed and her cheeks went nearly rosy. "Well, thank you." She reached up a hand to pat down her hair, thought better of it and brushed her fingers against Crowley's hand instead for the briefest of moments before turning back in the direction they'd originally been walking.

"Now, where were we headed?" she asked, hands once again clasped in front of her.

Crowley, frozen in place for a moment from the excruciatingly soft touch, cleared his throat and started forward, pointing upward and to the right. "There," he said, as if there weren't hundreds of buildings in that direction.

"Perfect," Aziraphale said as the sun came fully out from the clouds. The clouds that quickly dissipated completely, leaving the angel and the demon bathed in the warm light and soft breeze as they walked through the streets of Brindisi.

**Author's Note:**

> this was just an excuse to imagine aziraphale with long hair and in a nice long historic dress; originally this was gonna take place right after the arrangement was made but i wanted them to be more smitten with each other so here we are. i also left out the angsty epilogue about why aziraphale changed back to short hair and masculine clothes bc it was too sad.


End file.
